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THE  FIRE  BIRI 


GENE 
STRATTON-PQRTER 


HE   FIRE   BIRD 


BOOKS  BY— *«&®m 
GENE  STRATTON-PORTER 


Nature  Books 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  CARDINAL 

FRIENDS  IN^FBA-TBERS 

BIRDS  OF  THE  BIBLE 

Music  OF  THE  WILD 

MOTHS  OF  THE  LlMBERLOST 

MORNING  FACE       •.  ••••• 
HOMING  WITH  THE  BIRDS 

Nature  Stories 

FRECKLES 

A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST 

AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW 

THE  HARVESTER 

LADDIE 

MICHAEL  O'HALLORAN 

A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  LAND 

HER  FATHER'S  DAUGHTER 

THE  FIRE  BIRD 


- 


"Medicine  Man,  0  Medicine  Man, 
Make  for  me  a  new,  a  sure  medicine 
That  will  ease  my  scorched  heart 
Of  the  fire  of  a  flaming  red  bird 
And  take  from  my  tortured  hands 
Their  burden  of  moon  white  lilies." 


THE  FIRE  BIRD 


ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY  GORDON  GRANT      ^ 


DECORATIONS  BY 
LEE  THAYER  \ 


GARDEN    CITY,    N.    Y. ,    AND    TORONTO 

DOUBLEDAY,   PAGE  &    COMPANY 

1922 


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t     \  COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY 

GENE  STRATTON-PORTER 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED,  INCLUDING  THAT   OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 

PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 

_^  AT 

K  THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS,  GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 

First  Edition 


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EDWARD  SHERIFF  CURTIS 

BLOOD  BROTHER  TO  THE  INDIANS   BY  CEREMONIAL 
SPIRIT    BROTHER    TO    HIS    FELLOW  MEN     BY  BIRTH 


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CONTENTS 

PART  I 
THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  PRINCESS  YIADA 

PART   II 
COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION      .     . 

PART   III 

YIADA'S  FLIGHT  TO  THE  MANDANAS 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Princess  Yiada  and  the  Medicine  Man 

Frontispiece 


FACING  PAGE 

22 


Coiiy-ouv  and  Mountain  Lion      .... 
Star  Face  and  Dove  Eye 49 


3&j£ar 

iSsn 


II 


THE   FIRE   BIRD 

PART  I 
THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA 

Medicine  Man,  O  Medicine  Man, 

Make  for  me  High  Magic. 

I,  Yiada,  daughter  of  White  Wolf, 

Mighty  Chief  of  the  Canawacs, 

Mate  of  Star  Face,  Brave  of  the  Mandanas, 

I  of  your  blood,  I  have  said  it! 

From  the  roots  of  the  white  toluache  lilies 

Make  me  a  strong  medicine 

That  will  drown  my  scorching  spirit-fire 

And  empty  my  hands  of  their  fulness. 

Beat  your  sacred  turtle  drums 

Loud  and  threateningly. 

Drive  back  to  the  fear  peopled  forest 

Of  the  far  and  dread  Shadow  Land 

The  flaming  ghost  of  the  fire  bird 

And  the  white  flower  of  the  still  water. 


2  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Heal  me  of  the  dread  head-sickness 
Like  the  midsummer  madness 
Of  foaming-mouthed  quiota. 

I,  Yiada,  proud  daughter  of  the  fierce  Canawacs, 

I,  mate  of  the  Brave,  Star  Face, 

Chief  of  a  forest  of  wigwams, 

With  ponies  like  the  sands  of  the  sea,  have  said  it, 

Hear  me,  for  the  healing  of  my  sickened  spirit! 

Where  the  triumphant  blue  sea  water, 
Sky-gold  all  day  in  the  slanting  sunlight, 
Silver-white  in  the  uncertain  moonlight, 
Teases  the  pale  sands  of  the  craggy  beaches, 
Lay  the  lodge  of  my  Father,  White  Wolf, 
The  savage  hunter  of  beast  and  enemy, 
First  at  the  kill,  Chief  of  great  wealth, 
Next  in  power  to  the  high  Sachem, 
Chief  of  all  Chiefs. 

Many  were  the  strong  sons 

Who  sprang  from  White  Wolf's  loins — 

I  Yiada,  his  one  daughter,  pride  of  Falcon  Eye, 

His  daring  chieftainess,  from  the  far  Mandanas. 

Tall  our  wigwams  of  deer  and  bear  and  elk  skins, 
Stout  our  warm  lodges  of  cedar  and  pine  tree, 
Many  our  robes  of  beaver  and  buffalo  and  marten, 


THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA          3 

Heavy  our  necklaces  with  cunningly  carved  beads, 
Polished  elk  teeth  and  eagle  talons. 
Shining  black  obsidian  and  precious  blue  shell; 
Our  war  ponies  flocking  like  birds  fleeing  winter. 

Always  for  me,  the  one  daughter. 

The  warm  spot  by  the  storm  fire, 

The  floating  sweet  fat  from  the  cooking  kettles, 

The  first  crusty  brown  cake 

From  the  smoking  red  baking  stones, 

The  clear  flowing  gold  sweet 

From  the  tall  nests  of  the  wood  bees; 

The  soft  sun  coloured  robe  of  down  fine  doeskin 

Embroidered  with  broad  bands  of  white  beads. 

Luring  beads  of  green,  and  blue,  and  yellow, 

The  red  stained  singing  quills  of  the  porcupine, 

And  downy  snow  white  under  feathers 

From  the  breast  of  the  white  swan. 

I,  first  in  the  picking  of  the  juicy  berries 

The  fruits  of  earth  and  bush, 

Most  skilful  in  the  weaving 

Of  the  bright  story  baskets, 

Swiftest  at  embroidering  robes  of  doeskin 

For  chieftain  or  little  fatling; 

Leader  in  the  ceremonial  dances 

Of  the  young  women  of  our  tribe, 

In  the  great  Assembly  Lodge  of  our  people. 


4  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

I,  of  slim  body,  willow  smooth,  oak  strong, 
With  thick  long  hair  of  crow-back  blackness, 
And  keen  far  eyes  like  the  high  eagle 
Of  the  top  crag  of  the  cloud  country 
Spying  in  the  gold  hunting  grounds  of  the  sun. 

Many  the  gaily  dressed  young  Braves 

Who  nightly  crept  close  our  lodges 

And  made  soft  eyes  and  sang  wooing  songs, 

When  the  moon  of  full  womanhood  shone  on  me. 

But  always,  when  she  braided  ornaments 

In  my  hair,  for  dancing, 

And  oiled  me  for  high  ceremonials, 

In  my  ear  Falcon  Eye,  my  Mother,  whispered: 

"Keep  your  body  for  Mountain  Lion, 

Son  of  the  High  Sachem, 

Chief  of  Chiefs  when  his  Father  makes  his  journey 

To  the  far  country  of  the  Great  Spirit/' 

Mountain  Lion  was  the  tallest, 

The  strongest  of  our  young  men, 

The  fastest  rider,  the  most  skilful  dancer, 

The  surest  hunter  among  us, 

The  spy  who  never  failed, 

The  warrior  who  always  returned  in  triumph. 

Like  the  young  trees  of  the  sea  shore 
He  was  slim  and  straight. 


THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA          5 

Like  the  water  rolling  up  the  white  sands 

He  was  ever  tireless. 

Like  the  shining  of  the  spirit  sun 

He  lighted  all  the  day  with  gold  magic; 

Like  the  kindly  silver  moon 

He  peopled  all  the  night  with  friendly  shadows. 

The  heart  of  every  maiden  was  winged 

In  the  wild  breast  of  her, 

If  he  but  looked  where  her  footsteps  led  her. 

Medicine  Man,  O  Medicine  Man, 
Make  for  me  a  new,  a  sure  medicine 
That  will  ease  my  scorched  heart 
Of  the  fire  of  a  flaming  red  bird 
And  take  from  my  tortured  hands 
Their  burden  of  moon  white  lilies. 

In  the  cool  night  of  the  fat,  bloody  moon  of  harvest 

When  the  tribal  storehouses  were  full  heaped 

With  dried  fish  and  bear,  buffalo  and  deer  meat, 

With  little  mountains  of  maize  for  winter; 

When  the  cakes  and  candles  of  yellow  tallow 

Were  moulded  past  numbering, 

When  the  wide-mouthed  seed  baskets 

Were  high  heaped  with  richness, 

And  many  deep  nut  baskets  were  overflowing, 

When  the  dried  berries  from  far  thickets 

Made  little  sun  painted  hills — 


6  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Then  all  of  the  tribe  of  our  hunting  grounds 
Bathed  their  hard  worked  bodies, 
Oiled  their  smooth  skins,  painted  their  happy  faces 
And  put  on  the  wealth  of  their  richest  robes 
For  the  Great  Dance  of  Thanksgiving. 

When  the  robins  made  love  chase  that  season, 
In  the  secret  ceremonial  of  the  wise  old  women 
My  Maiden's  Hour  had  been  celebrated. 

Always  had  my  proud,  savage  Mother 

Taken  me  alone  to  the  forest, 

And  there,  beating  hands  and  chanting, 

She  had  carefully  taught  me 

The  Wonder  Dance  of  the  Maidens'  Hour 

Of  the  Mandanas,  her  people. 

It  was  a  dance  of  moonlight  and  moon  madness, 
Of  sign  love  talk,  of  eyes  asking  great  gifts, 
Of  swift  feet  stamping  like  the  roebuck 
And  singing  bead  and  shell  trinket  music, 
So  that  all  the  night  was  softly  lighted 
With  strange  visions  flower  sweet. 

On  the  day  of  the  Thanksgiving  Ceremonial 
When  my  Mother  oiled  me  to  leaf  fine  smoothness, 
And  hung  me  heavy  with  bracelets  of  bone  beads 
And  a  necklace  of  precious  carved  blue  shell, 


THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA          7 

As  her  skilled  hands  of  love  flew, 
In  my  ear  she  made  Canawac  talk: 

"To-night,  before  the  Great  Sachem 

On  his  high  throne  of  prideful  authority, 

With  the  son  who  follows  him  in  Council, 

Sitting  beside  his  knee, 

When  thou  leadest  the  Thanksgiving  Dance 

At  the  head  of  the  young  women 

Thou  shalt  wave  all  of  them  back  to  their  places, 

And  alone,  before  the  assembled  Chieftains, 

Thou  shalt  dance  the  Mating  Dance 

Of  the  rich  and  powerful  Mandanas, 

Ever  keeping  thine  eye  of  glad  submission, 

Fast  on  the  eye  of  Mountain  Lion. 

"If  the  soft  light  in  his  eye  strike  fire  for  thee, 

Then  shalt  thou  forget  all  others 

And  dance  out  thy  heart  for  him  alone 

And  bow  low  as  the  young  cedar  before  him, 

And  as  the  serpent  charm  him. 

If  he  arise  and  stand  facing  thee 

And  dance  love  manifest  before  thee, 

Then  is  the  hour  come  for  thy  union  with  him. 

"Then  shall  I  fly  to  set  up  thy  wigwam 

Of  down-fine  doeskin,  bleached  with  love, 

That  many  suns  I  have  worked  on  in  hiding  for  thee, 


8  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

And  gladly  in  the  sand  before  it 

Thou  shalt  set  thy  lighted  candle, 

Thy  tall  proud  candle  of  gold  bear  tallow; 

And  if  he  come  to  thee  with  soft  words 

With  words  of  wooing  magic, 

Then  shalt  thou  bury  thy  candle  flame 

In  the  yielding  sands  before  him. 

"Then  art  thou  our  Chief tainess  in  seasons  to  come, 

And  high  shall  thy  sure  heart  beat 

With  pride  of  love  and  power, 

And  swift  shall  thy  red  blood  run  in  leaping  streams 

With  the  flood-high  tide  of  mighty  Chieftains. 

"Braves  shall  thy  many  straight  sons  be, 

Great  Chiefs  who  shall  rule  other  far  nations; 

And  sweet  shall  thy  tall  strong  women  be 

As  the  red  honey-flower  that  grows  in  the  forest, 

And  swift  shall  their  hearts  be 

As  the  heart  of  the  frightened  fawn 

That  leaps  with  feathered  feet  before  the  hunter." 

Medicine  Man,  make  me  a  sure  medicine, 
A  strong  medicine,  new  to  our  people, 
That  shall  ease  my  weary  eyes 
Of  a  red  bird  and  a  white  lily. 

When  the  Harvest  Ceremonial  Dance 
Was  cried  through  all  the  village, 


THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA          9 

When  night  crept,  silent  as  the  bat's  wing, 

From  the  blanketed  heart  of  the  forest, 

When  the  great  Assembly  Lodge 

Was  lighted  and  filled  with  happy  faces, 

When  the  old  chiefs  and  the  wise  men 

Had  spoken  thanksgivings  for  fat  harvest, 

And  the  time  was  come  for  all  the  tribe  to  rejoice, 

First  came  the  dance  of  the  little  stumbling  children; 

The  little  fat  bellied  round  faced  serious  children, 

With  shining  black  hair  and  wonder  eyes, 

And  flower  red  cheeks  and  mouths, 

And  stout  breath  like  short  gusts  of  North  Wind. 

When,  worn  out  with  swift  dances, 

They  rolled  in  their  soft  blankets, 

Came  the  shy  youths'  dance, 

And  the  uncertain  growing  maidens' 

All  bravely  tinkling  little  necklaces 

Of  squirrel  and  rabbit  teeth,  and  bright  rare  shells. 

Then  danced  the  carefully  trained  young  women, 

Grown  and  ripe  for  the  Harvest  of  love. 

In  their  lead  I  did  as  my  Mother  had  told  me. 

Straight  I  stood  before  the  Great  Sachem 
And  the  son  of  the  pride  of  his  heart. 
High  I  lifted  my  head  like  a  proud  pine  tree, 
And  softly  I  shook  my  bracelets  of  beads 


io  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

And  rattled  my  necklace  of  blue  shell, 

And  rustled  the  porcupine  fringes 

Of  my  fine  robe  of  yellow, 

In  music  like  the  little  secret  whispering 

Among  the  dry  grass  under  passing  feet. 

I  spoke  as  I  had  always  been  taught  by  my  Mother: 
"Great  Chief,  grant  that  I  dance  before  thee 
The  Woman's  Love  Dance  of  the  brave  Mandanas, 
A  dance  that  I  have  learned 
From  the  swift  feet  of  my  Mother/' 

Searchingly,  the  Great  Sachem  looked  at  his  son 

And  his  son  looked  at  me  with  understanding 

And  made  a  swift  sign  to  his  Father; 

So  raising  his  hands  of  authority, 

The  Great  Sachem  cried  aloud: 

"  Yiada,  daughter  of  Chief  White  Wolf, 

Will  dance  the  Woman's  Dance  of  the  Mandanas, 

Let  all  others  be  seated.     I  have  said  it ! " 

Alone,  with  the  blood  of  heart  red  on  lip  and  cheek 

And  with  the  pride  of  my  asking  heart 

Beating  like  wings  on  my  light  feet, 

With  my  Mother  keeping  time  for  me, 

As  she  did  in  the  secret  forest, 

Slowly  I  stepped  into  the  great  dance 

Of  the  Mandanas,  of  the  peace  lands; 


THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA        n 

The  strongest  love  medicine 

Ever  measured  by  the  feet  of  wild  women. 

As  I  danced,  even  as  my  Mother  had  long  told  me 

I  kept  my  eyes  ever  spying 

Deep  into  the  eyes  of  Mountain  Lion. 

When  the  dance  grew  to  its  swiftest  wildest  note, 

When  my  proud  head  of  certainty 

And  my  willing  arms  were  high  lifted. 

And  the  beads  and  obsidian  and  blue  shell 

Tinkled  soft  singing,  like  falling  rain, 

Mountain  Lion  sprang  to  his  feet 

And  came  down  in  the  firelight  before  me. 

With  no  knowledge  of  the  dance  of  the  Mandanas, 

And  no  teaching  of  step  or  of  posture, 

He  fell  into  the  strange  measures 

That  my  Mother  had  taught  me; 

With  eyes  upon  eyes  and  heart  near  to  heart, 

Facing  in  the  wide  fire  flaming  circle 

Where  envious  faces  kept  watch  upon  us, 

We  danced  the  wonder  dance 

Of  the  hour  of  full  womanhood. 

Medicine  Man,  O  Medicine  Man, 
Healer  of  the  hearts  of  the  Mandanas, 
There,  facing  the  chiefs  and  maidens 
Of  a  thousand  lodges  of  our  tribe, 


12  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

With  the  Great  Sachem  keenly  watching 
On  his  high  throne  of  great  power. 
Barest  say  that  was  not  my  hour 
My  rightful  moon  of  exultation? 

When  I  looked,  near  the  close  of  the  dance, 

Toward  my  Mother  for  guidance 

She  gave  me  the  swift  happy  sign  of  birds  flying; 

So  I  caught  that  joyful  sign 

And  I  gave  it  to  the  waiting  maidens. 

Like  homing  swallows  they  swept  around  me; 

The  young  Braves  came  stamping, 

Like  roebucks  before  the  does  of  Spring, 

Then  all  of  us  changed  the  dance 

To  the  love  measures  of  the  Canawacs. 

When  the  chattering  maidens 

Went  back  to  their  waiting  mothers, 

I  stood  there  tall  and  straight  and  proud 

Fresh  as  the  wing  of  the  eagle, 

From  the  highest  peak  of  dawn 

Eye  to  eye,  face  to  face  with  Mountain  Lion. 

His  eyes  burned  deep  into  my  eyes 

With  a  look  of  quivering  power. 

Medicine  Man,  darest  thou  say 

That  was  not  the  great  understanding? 

So  when  all  of  the  others 

Went  on  with  the  Dance  of  Thanksgiving, 


THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA        13 

Soft  as  the  veiling  mists 
From  the  dim  breast  of  evening  meadows 
I  slipped  from  the  Council  House 
And  I  flew  to  our  lodge. 

With  hands  of  high  satisfaction 

My  Mother  set  my  wigwam  beside  her  lodge. 

I  lighted  my  tall  happy  candle  of  bear  fat; 

I  opened  my  doorway  wide  to  the  friendly  moon; 

Deep  in  the  sands  I  set  my  love  light  to  burning. 

And  there  I  waited — long  and  long  I  waited, 

In  burning  eagerness  of  heart 

Tremblingly  listening  with  each  breath 

For  the  sure  step  of  Mountain  Lion. 

Then,  Medicine  Man, 

With  black  angered  sign  talk 

And  fierce  eyes  of  leaping  fire, 

Came  my  storm  driven  Mother. 

As  she  came  toward  me, 

Like  a  killing  wind  uprooting  the  cedars, 

Arose  high  clamour  from  the  Council  Lodge. 

She  caught  up  my  hopeful  waiting  candle, 

My  living  love  token  to  Mountain  Lion,  my  man, 

She  buried  its  flame  deep  in  the  white  sands, 

In  rage  she  thrust  it  from  her, 

She  snatched  shut  the  welcoming  doors 


i4  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Before  the  eyes  of  anguish  of  my  Mother 
Of  my  willing  doeskin  wigwam, 
And  in  the  harsh  low  voiced  Canawac  tongue 
She  cried  to  me  in  choking  anger: 

"Woe  is  upon  us!     Strangers  have  reached  us. 

Comes  a  great  Chief  from  tribes  of  the  far  North, 

From  the  camps  of  the  powerful  Killimacs, 

From  the  home  fires  of  the  Ice  God; 

And  with  him  on  a  snow  white  pony 

Rides  his  beautiful  raven  haired  daughter, 

A  tall  proud  Princess  of  a  great  warlike  nation. 

"This  night  Mountain  Lion  will  not  come  to  thee: 
His  father  has  sent  him  to  serve  the  rich  strangers. 
Get  thee  back  to  thy  place  in  the  Council  Lodge 
Before  the  venom  tipped  finger  pointers  miss  thee, 
For  there  will  be  great  feasting  and  much  talk, 
The  rejoicing  will  last  for  many  suns  and  moons. 
It  was  the  wrong  time  for  thy  dance  of  allurement 
Thy  maiden  proffer  of  prideful  loving, 
But  I,  thy  Mother,  taught  thee  thy  undoing, 
I,  thy  Mother,  gave  to  thee  the  sign." 

Then,  Medicine  Man, 

As  fierce  a  storm  as  ever  tore  the  forest, 

As  ever  pitched  the  sea  high  in  wild  fury, 

Broke  in  my  heart,  leaping  to  flee  its  lodging  place. 

I  lifted  my  head  high,  and  proudly  and  silently 


THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA        15 

I  stepped  into  the  moon  tide, 

But  I  trembled  and  shook  with  all-over  sickness, 

My  blood  ran  hot  angry  gushes, 

And  I,  who  had  never  known  pain 

In  any  part  of  my  strong  body, 

Now  felt  its  rending  arrows 

Tearing  my  heart  in  sick  torture, 

As  I  crept  through  the  restless  whispering  forest 

Where  the  wise  old  yellow  leaves 

Talked  over  my  shame  with  each  other 

And  every  mocking  finger  of  night 

Pointed  in  derision  at  my  wounded  side, 

I  crept  back  to  the  Council  Lodge 

Still  as  a  panther  fending  for  her  cubs, 

I  slipped  in  unseen  by  any, 

And  took  up  my  place  among  the  young  women. 

On  the  high  throne  of  power 

Beside  our  Great  Sachem,  Storm  Wind, 

Sat  a  tall  Chief  trailing  rich  robes 

Of  white  fox,  sealskin,  and  white  bear. 

A  proud  Chief  of  savage  face, 

Weighted  with  a  heavy  necklace  of  eagles'  claws, 

Many  elk  teeth,  and  lion  talons, 

Hanging  across  his  broad  shoulders. 

Standing  still  and  straight  before  them, 
First,  I  saw  the  stranger  woman. 


1 6  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

I  heard  the  deep  voice  of  her  father. 
Toned  to  soft  talk,  as  among  peace  councils, 
When  he  told  the  Great  Sachem  and  Chieftains 
And  all  the  watching  Canawacs: 

"This  is  my  daughter,  a  Princess  of  seven  tribes, 

She  who  can  run  with  the  foot  of  the  hare, 

Who  can  dance  as  the  gold  birch  leaves, 

When  spring  comes  stealing  from  the  Southland; 

Who  can  guide  the  swift  canoes  surely 

And  ride  the  wild  ponies  on  the  chase, 

Whose  fingers  are  skilful  in  basket  weaving, 

In  beading,  and  braiding,  and  polishing  ornaments, 

She  comes  with  me  to  make  the  friendship 

Of  a  people  of  her  mother's  blood; 

And  her  name  is  a  name  held  sacred 

Among  all  the  tribes  at  peace  with  us. 

Like  music  there  fell  from  his  smooth  tongue 

A  name  well  known  to  council  wise  Canawacs, 

'  Couy-ouy' — a  breath  of  sweetness — 

He  spoke  it  like  the  easy  tongue  of  a  lazy  brook 

Softly  singing  among  the  small  stones  of  its  bed. 

Then  every  Canawac  remembered  the  dark  days 
When  the  Great  Spirit  became  justly  angered, 
And  in  the  height  of  his  deep  wrath 
Against  the  treachery  of  all  tribes 
Drew  up  the  waters  of  destruction 


THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA        17 

Until  they  covered  the  earth's  face, 

Leaving  upon  the  tallest  tree 

Only  one  Chief  and  his  mate, 

And  one  pair  of  every  bird  and  climbing  beast, 

On  the  top  of  the  highest  mountain 

Of  all  the  earth  known  to  man. 

When  the  water  had  come  up  to  the  top  branches 

Until  only  their  heads  were  above  it, 

And  had  stood  still  for  three  weary  suns, 

Then  slowly  it  drew  back,  and  left  the  earth  barren, 

So  there  was  no  fire  to  cook  food 

For  the  hungry  Sachem  and  his  mate, 

Nor  to  warm  the  water  soaked  camping  grounds. 

Then  the  Sachem  sent  a  beaver  messenger 

Far  down  to  the  underworld 

To  borrow  only  one  coal 

From  the  campfires  of  the  dark  spirits; 

But  the  beaver  was  not  able  to  bring  it 

For  burning  his  mouth  cruelly. 

Then  he  sent  the  fierce  mountain  lion, 
Searching  all  over  the  earth  for  campfires, 
But  there  was  no  fire  to  be  found, 
For  the  water  had  been  everywhere. 

Then  he  sent  a  little  gray  bird  to  the  spirit  world 
To  bring  from  the  campfires  of  the  unseen  country 


1 8  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

One  living  coal  with  which  to  make  a  fire 
For  the  cooking  kettles  and  light-signals, 
And  to  warm  the  lodges  of  all  the  tribes 
That  would  follow  him  in  suns  to  come. 

So  the  dauntless  little  gray  bird 

Slowly  winged  across  the  far  spaces. 

Three  suns  arose  and  set,  and  at  the  red  evening 

When  the  third  sun  plunged  its  face  in  the  sea, 

With  all  of  its  plumage  burned  a  flame-tongue  red, 

With  a  beak  of  red  like  hot  coals 

And  its  face  blackened  with  fire, 

Came  the  brave  panting  bird 

With  a  living  coal  held  fast  in  its  mouth, 

A  coal  snatched  from  the  high  altars 

Of  the  far  country  of  the  spirits. 

And  so  the  fire  gift  was  brought  back  to  earth 
To  warm  the  hearts  and  the  wigwams 
Of  every  nation,  for  all  seasons  to  come. 

The  bird  was  sent  from  a  stranger  tribe 

Far  to  the  south  of  our  hunting  grounds, 

Where  the  hot  suns  shine  and  the  grass  withers; 

But  travellers  journeying  northward  to  see  us, 

Had  told  our  grandfathers  about  it, 

Had  shown  us  the  bird  of  bloody  red  beak 

And  face  still  blackened  with  fire, 


THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA        19 

Singing  gaily  in  our  summer  forests, 
Singing  even  in  the  ice  of  winter. 

Often  when  we  chanted  songs  of  thanksgiving 

To  the  Great  Spirit,  for  rich  gifts, 

When  we  thanked  him  for  the  buffalo  and  beaver, 

For  the  deer  meat  and  fish  and  corn  for  winter, 

Then  our  tribes  made  a  ceremonial  of  glad  rejoicing 

For  the  bird  that  brought  back 

The  great  wonder  gift  of  fire. 

Its  sacred  name  fell  on  our  ears 

Like  the  peace  of  the  Great  Spirit, 

Fell  soft  as  flying  snowflakes 

When  first  squaw  winter  comes, 

Soft  as  the  hunting  wing  of  the  thieving  owl, 

Sweet  as  the  breath  of  flowers  in  the  nesting  moon, 

From  the  lips  of  the  Great  Chief:  "Couy-oiiy." 

Before  him,  her  shining  head  bowed, 
Our  people  watched  her  in  silent  wonder. 
She  was  tall,  taller  than  any  of  our  women, 
Tall  and  slender  like  the  singing  wind  reeds 
That  grow  around  the  magic  pool 
Of  the  white  spirit  lily  of  the  still  water, 
Far  back  in  the  valley  pastures. 

She  moved  like  the  night  hawk 
Slowly  sweeping  across  the  moon  sky. 


20  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

From  the  proud  lift  of  her  head 

And  the  eagle  look  of  her  dark  eye 

From  the  red  flower  flame  of  her  soft  lips 

And  the  sureness  of  her  being, 

I  could  see  that  the  heart  of  her 

Was  like  a  wiry  little  war  pony 

Swiftly  racing  up  the  steep  trail  of  her  breast 

With  the  hunt  blood  of  the  soft  chase 

Fevering  its  questing  nostrils. 

No  woman  among  our  people, 

Had  seen  the  beauty  of  her  robe, 

For  she  stood  in  flower  white,  flower  fine  doeskin, 

Bleached  and  tanned  like  winter  snowdrift, 

Like  the  shining  water  flower  face  of  far  lakes, 

Like  the  wide  wing  of  a  homing  white  swan, 

Like  the  silver  rays  of  the  big  cold  hunting  moon. 

All  around  her  feet  fell  soft  knotted  fringes 

Cut  deep  as  the  height  of  the  first  upstanding 

Of  papooses  ready  to  walk. 

And  her  belt  and  her  neck  were  deeply  embroidered 

With  a  thousand  green  stained  quills 

From  the  backs  of  many  porcupines, 

While  her  long  heavy  necklace 

Was  got  from  traders  crossing  far  seas, 

For  it  lay  soft  dull  jade  like  the  green  wave  meadow 

In  the  deepest  bay  of  the  leaf  tinted  big  sea  water. 


THE  LOVE  DANCE  OF  YIADA        21 

Medicine  Man,  O  Medicine  Man, 

When  one  looked  upon  her  searchingly, 

As  I  looked  long  upon  her, 

That  night  of  fat  harvest  thanksgiving, 

Slowly  one  saw  creeping  from  her  bare  arms, 

From  her  firm  high  breasts, 

Over  the  dark  gleaming  bowed  head 

And  sure  slender  shoulders  of  her, 

A  faint  waving  cloud  like  fine  blue  mist 

That  could  have  been  none  other 

Than  the  secret  power  of  the  Great  Spirit, 

Stealing  from  her  breast  to  wrap  around  her 

So  that  any  evil  spirit  magic 

Might  not  be  strong  to  work  against  her. 

I  could  see  that  she  was  softer 

Than  our  hard  working  women, 

Though  she  had  learned  from  the  bee 

To  be  busy  and  useful, 

Though  she  had  learned  from  the  hunted  fawn 

To  travel  far  journeys  in  daring  winged  leaps. 


PART  II 
COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION 

Medicine  Man,  it  were  not  enough, 

Ha!  it  were  not  enough 

That  the  stranger  bore  the  song  name 

Of  the  fire  bird  our  tribe  worshipped; 

For  on  her  breast,  sheltered  with  one  slim  hand, 

With  flaming  wings  outspread, 

And  panting  saw-edged  beak  like  fire, 

Lay  a  brother  of  the  spirit  bird, 

Flame  red,  blood  red,  feathers  like  wounds — 

Dead  coal  black  of  face; 

A  wild  thing,  sheltered  and  unafraid. 

In  her  language  and  with  wave  smooth  sign  talk 

She  told  the  Great  Sachem  and  our  Chiefs 

That  she  had  found  it  in  the  forest 

Wounded  from  the  missed  kill  of  the  night  bird 

Or  bare  escaped  from  the  eager  claws 

Of  the  hunger  driven  wildcat. 

22 


"Before  the  approving  eyes  of  the  watching  Canawacs 
Never  had  there  been  a  sight  so  fair  to  see, 
As  when,  clinging  trustingly  to  her  firm  finger, 
The  broken  bird  fed  from  her  hand  of  pity" 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    23 

Even  as  she  told  how  she  had  found  it, 
She  folded  its  wings  against  its  full  breast 
And  set  it  upright  on  her  steady  finger. 
Medicine  Man,  it  moved  not,  it  fluttered  not, 
Though  one  bleeding  wing  hung  broken. 

Where  it  had  lain  between  her  round  breasts 
Its  red  sign  stained  the  front  of  her  white  robe, 
The  mark  of  her  soft  heart  of  pity. 

Medicine  Man,  the  face  of  the  Great  Sachem 
Changed  slowly  as  he  watched  our  visitor; 
He  looked  with  understanding  upon  her, 
He  marvelled  at  the  quiet  bird. 
The  heart  of  my  Father,  the  White  Wolf, 
Grew  tender  as  he  studied  her. 

My  own  heart  lay  strange  in  my  tormented  breast 
Until  swiftly  she  turned  her  face  from  the  women 
Ever  the  grinders  of  the  meal  in  our  jars, 
Ever  the  curers  of  the  deer  meat,  and  salmon, 
The  fillers  and  the  guardians  of  the  storehouses; 
And  stretching  her  hand  toward  Mountain  Lion, 
By  strange  words  and  by  pretty  sign  talk 
She  asked  of  him  like  coaxing  birds: 
"Coarse  meal  and  water.     Couy-ouy  is  hungry." 

As  a  sudden  wind  bends  a  tall  birch  low, 
Willing  my  man  sprang  to  obey  her  bidding. 


24  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Before  the  approving  eyes  of  the  watching  Canawacs 
Never  had  there  been  a  sight  so  fair  to  see, 
As  when,  clinging  trustingly  to  her  firm  finger, 
The  broken  bird  fed  from  her  hand  of  pity. 

I  could  see  the  deep  look,  the  inner  trouble, 
The  battle  in  the  heart  of  Mountain  Lion, 
When  she  held  the  bird  toward  him 
That  it  should  drink,  as  do  the  wounded, 
From  the  polished  mussel  shell  he  had  brought. 

He  looked,  not  at  the  broken  bird,  as  we  did, 

But  far  into  the  eyes  of  Coiiy-ouy, 

The  Princess  of  the  Killimacs. 

Medicine  Man,  was  it  not  a  Brave's  hour, 

Was  it  not  a  Warrior's  hour, 

That  hour  in  which  I  stood  unflinching 

And  saw  her  take  him  from  me? 

I,  whose  heart  had  possessed  him 

Since  we  shot  the  play  arrows  of  childhood, 

And  together  chased  the  painted  wings 

Through  the  flower  fields  of  the  Canawacs. 

Then  came  Prairie  Flower, 
Mate  of  the  Great  Sachem, 
To  lead  away  the  mighty  strangers. 
For  many  suns  and  as  many  moons 
We  feasted  and  danced  gaily. 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    25 

Was  I  not  brave  to  wear  fine  robes, 

Nightly  to  chant  boastful  songs? 

My  breast  was  torn  and  bleeding 

As  the  broken  wing  of  the  fire  bird, 

Yet  many  searing  times 

At  the  command  of  the  Great  Sachem 

Was  I  made  to  smile  in  the  Council  Lodge, 

And  to  dance  the  Love  Dance  of  the  Mandanas; 

That  dance  that  I  had  learned  in  secret 

From  the  flying  feet  of  my  Mother, 

Learned  only  for  Mountain  Lion, 

For  the  great  ceremonial  of  love  giving. 

Medicine  Man,  Hear  me! 

Not  again  did  the  eyes  of  Mountain  Lion 

Travel  across  the  Council  Lodge 

To  seek  my  eyes  in  understanding. 

Coiiy-ouy  had  taken  his  eyes; 

On  her  face  she  proudly  kept  them, 

For  he  saw  nought  but  the  blue  mist  around  her, 

The  gleam  of  her  hair,  the  red  bow  of  her  lips. 

He  heard  nought  but  the  luring  music 

Of  her  echo  sweet  voice, 

And  the  happy  song  of  her  quilled  robe 

As  she  hourly  passed  among  our  people; 

While  always  clinging  to  her  breast  or  shoulder 

Proud  and  fearless  as  in  freedom, 

Rode  the  sacred  wounded  bird  of  blood  redness. 


26  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Her  father  homed  in  wigwams 

Near  the  lodge  of  the  Great  Sachem, 

Rode  his  hunting  pony  on  the  far  chase  beside  him. 

Sat  on  high  in  the  councils  of  our  Chieftains. 

When  the  dancing  and  feasting  were  over 
It  was  known  through  the  voices  of  the  criers 
That  for  many  moons  our  visitors 
Would  home  beside  our  campfires. 
Learning  of  our  wisdom  from  us, 
Teaching,  where  their  customs  differed. 

The  Great  Sachem  was  swift  to  order, 
The  rarest  fish  from  sea  or  river, 
The  juiciest  of  the  small  birds 
From  the  snares  of  the  children^ 
The  tenderest  fawn  flesh 
From  the  arrows  of  the  hunters, 
To  be  brought  for  the  cooking  kettles 
Of  the  strangers  who  trusted  us. 

Every  day  I  watched  the  slow  sun, 

And  at  night  I  danced  with  the  maidens, 

But  no  sleep  came  to  my  eyes, 

No  hunger  came  to  my  body. 

My  Mother  tempted  me  with  bits  as  sweet 

As  the  Sachem  had  commanded  for  Coii-ouy, 

But  my  parched  throat  refused  them  in  scorn, 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    27 

My  dry  tongue  found  no  savour  in  juicy  fatness, 
My  hot  hands  could  not  place  the  beads  evenly. 

Then  it  was  that  my  Mother  came  to  my  wigwam, 
And  closing  the  doorway  she  stood  before  me, 
And  long  and  long  she  looked  far  into  my  heart. 
Deep  in  her  eyes  there  gathered  the  black  fury, 
And  a  storm  like  the  wildest  storm 
That  ever  twisted  the  cedars  in  wrath, 
Raged  in  her  rocking  breasts 
And  her  lightning  flashing  eyes. 

Fiercely  in  the  silent  Canawac  motion  tongue, 

Her  look  burning  into  my  living  spirit, 

She  made  the  sign  of  the  quick  kill; 

And  turning  she  slipped  like  a  vision 

From  my  wigwam  of  torture. 

As  she  crept  into  the  mouth  of  darkness, 

0  Medicine  Man, 

1  knew  that  she  had  but  made  the  outward  sign 
For  the  savage  inward  purpose 

Long  hardening  in  my  deepest  heart. 

The  next  sun,  when  our  mothers  sent  the  maidens 
With  their  baskets  to  the  Fall  nut  gathering, 
I  kept  ever  close  beside  Couy-oiiy,  my  enemy, 
And  in  my  breast  there  flamed  fierce  anger, 
That  she  had  robbed  my  heart. 


28  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Always  at  the  door  of  her  wigwam, 
Rocking  in  the  sunshine  of  each  dawning, 
Hung  a  yellow  osier  basket  woven  like  a  ball, 
With  its  ribs  placed  wide  enough  apart 
To  give  the  gifts  of  light  and  air, 
Close  enough  to  prison  a  flame  red  bird. 

And  there,  healed  of  his  wounds, 

But  forever  broken  for  flight, 

On  a  twig  shaped  and  placed  by  Mountain  Lion, 

Couy-oiiy,  the  flame  feathered  voyager  of  air, 

Sang  a  song  filled  with  tears  and  wailing, 

The  cry  of  a  broken  bird  heart 

Pleading  for  wings  and  a  mate. 

The  Great  Spirit  heard  his  notes  of  sorrow, 

But  I  hardened  my  heart  against  the  sacred  bird; 

For  his  golden  cage  had  been  cunningly  wrought 

By  hands  of  such  great  strength  that  naked 

They  had  slain  the  mountain  lion 

And  taken  its  yellow  skin  for  a  ceremonial  robe, 

Its  fierce  name  for  the  sign  of  a  great  deed. 

Now  I  saw  in  dazed  wonder 
That  Mountain  Lion  had  grown  papoose  hearted. 
He  was  not  leading  the  hunters  in  the  forest; 
He  was  not  at  the  head  of  the  fishermen 
Spearing  and  netting  as  of  old. 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION     29 

He  had  proved  his  manhood  in  deadly  combat; 

He  had  won  his  name  by  the  fiercest  fight 

Ever  known  among  any  of  our  warriors; 

But  now  he  chose  to  lie  in  his  wigwam  and  dream, 

And  I  knew  what  he  dreamed,  O  Medicine  Man ! 

So  with  soft  words  and  pretty  sign  talk 
I  led  his  evil  spirit  to  the  bright  late  flower; 
I  showed  her  the  little  flitting  creatures. 
And  when  I  helped  her  fill  her  basket 
With  sweet  nuts  that  were  greatly  desired, 
My  ear,  quick  for  every  sound  of  menace, 
Marked  the  thing  the  softer  one  did  not  hear. 

By  a  slender  beckoning  blue  flower, 
I  measured  the  distance, 
And  skilfully  I  led  the  other  nut  pickers 
Far  away  from  the  spot  of  danger. 
Then  I  dared  her  to  race  in  turn  with  me 
To  leap  the  long  leap  across  the  nut  bushes, 
To  land  at  the  mark  of  the  sky  flower, 
A  fair  thing  to  shelter  death. 

I  set  down  my  heaped  basket  of  furry  nuts, 
I  gathered  my  robe  to  my  knees  and  raced  swiftly, 
I  made  the  leap  to  which  I  challenged  her, 
Before  her  and  all  of  the  wondering  maidens. 


30  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

She  followed  my  footsteps  like  a  rift  of  white  light. 

She  rose  high  in  the  air  over  the  sweet  nut  bushes, 

But  she  had  not  my  strength,  not  my  purpose. 

My  leap  carried  me  far  over  the  danger; 

But  as  I  turned  quickly  to  watch  her 

I  saw  her  touch  earth  in  smiling  confidence, 

At  the  mark  of  the  waving  sky  flower. 

When  she  tore  away,  her  eyes  wide  in  danger, 
Dragging  her  robe  from  the  clinging  thicket, 
With  greedy  eyed,  death  hungry  heart 
I  watched  her  proud  face. 

The  Great  Spirit  had  not  pitied  me, 

If  the  curved  death  serpent  had  struck  at  her, 

His  awful  fangs  had  missed  her  soft  body. 

O  Medicine  Man,  make  me  magic  for  the  fire  bird, 

Ease  my  spirit  of  the  snaring  water  flower. 

Many  suns  I  waited  in  hunger  and  spirit  searching; 
Far  and  alone  I  wandered  over  the  meadows, 
Beside  the  white  sand  shore  of  the  sea  water. 

One  day  I  lost  from  my  necklace 

A  carved  piece  of  rare  blue  shell, 

A  beautiful  heaven  tinted  shell,  a  treasure, 

Got  from  traders  from  the  Islands  of  the  seas 

Far  to  the  south  of  us — across  vast  waters; 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    31 

A  big  shell  so  precious  among  us  that  only  one 
Cost  us  the  weaving  of  fifty  blankets; 
The  greatest  wealth  known  to  our  people. 

Slipping  unseen  from  all  the  others, 

I  went  alone  through  a  trail  of  deep  forest 

To  the  back  of  a  far  secret  cavern  I  knew, 

Where  lay  hidden  my  precious  blue  shell, 

And  I  cut  one  small  piece  from  it, 

For  the  mending  of  my  necklace. 

When  I  came  back  to  the  sun,  O  Medicine  Man, 

And  through  the  forest  followed  my  trail, 

I  heard  the  rushing  thunder  footsteps 

And  the  death  growl  of  Black  Bear. 

I  looked,  and  I  saw  at  the  welcoming  cavern  mouth, 
Hurrying  in  from  the  forest,  the  bloody  killer, 
Mother  black  bear,  gaunt  and  hard  chased, 
With  far  hanging  tongue  and  foam  dripping  jaws; 
And  behind  her,  panting  and  whimpering, 
Her  pair  of  travel  worn  hungry  little  children. 

Some  far  tribe  had  driven  her  from  her  home, 
And  with  her  crying  small  ones  following 
She  was  seeking  shelter  in  my  treasure  lodge. 

I  watched  her  turn  and  forbid  her  children  to  enter; 
Alone,  bravely  to  the  inner  recesses  she  went. 


32  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Her  nose  must  have  told  her  of  my  recent  body, 
But  she  could  lead  her  sleepy  cubs  no  farther, 
For  the  death  weariness  was  upon  all  of  them. 

So  she  came  back  to  the  cave's  homing  mouth, 
Drove  her  panting  cubs  to  the  farthest  wall, 
And  making  fierce  boastful  war  talk, 
There  she  claimed  the  homing  rights  of  the  wild. 

I  went  back  to  where  our  women  were  working 
And  I  began  the  Brave's  task  of  drilling  my  shell. 
Couy-ouy  came  and  lay  beside  me,  watching. 
Her  tribes  had  no  knowledge 
Of  such  rare  precious  ornaments. 
She  greatly  desired  to  possess  one 
For  her  most  precious  bracelet. 

When  we  were  alone,  as  I  worked 

I  told  her  how  to  find  my  cavern 

And  where  the  shell  was  hidden  on  a  high  ledge. 

Her  heart  knew  no  fear; 

Her  eyes  shone  with  gladness 

When  I  told  her  my  great  secret  of  blue  treasure 

And  that,  if  she  would  go  alone, 

She  might  take  for  herself  one  piece. 

The  one  I  was  drilling  so  carefully  I  must  use 

For  the  mending  of  my  rarest  necklace. 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    33 

When  I  thought  of  the  dripping  jaws 

Of  the  killer,  ravenous,  tormented  to  frenzy, 

And  looked  at  the  smoothness  of  her  body, 

I  relented;  I  knew  mercy. 

It  was  in  my  softened  heart 

To  say  that  the  hunters  must  go  with  her; 

But  before  my  lips  of  compassion 

Could  speak  the  words  my  heart  said, 

With  the  joy  light  shining  on  her  face, 

She  told  me  in  happy  confidence: 

"I  will  take  but  one  small  piece 

To  ornament  my  richest  bracelet, 

And  I  will  polish  it  smooth  even  as  you  do, 

And  Mountain  Lion  shall  carve  it  for  me." 

O  Medicine  Man,  look  in  mercy  upon  me! 
Barest  say  she  drove  not  her  own  stake, 
Lighted  her  torture  fire  with  fearless  hands? 

Barest  say  she  knew  not  that  Mountain  Lion 

Would  now  make  her  our  Chieftainess? 

Barest  say  the  buzzing  of  a  swarm  of  maidens 

Had  not  told  her  many  suns  past 

That  Mountain  Lion  was  my  man, 

That  he  had  danced  the  Mating  Bance 

Of  the  Mandanas  with  me, 

Before  the  assembly  in  the  Council  House 

On  the  night  of  her  coming  among  us  ? 


34  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

All  that  night  my  eyes  surrounded  her  wigwam. 
With  first  dawn  ray  she  came  slipping  forth 
And  darted  down  the  veiled  trail 
That  led  through  the  deep  forest. 

Well  had  I  marked  the  path 

That  ran  to  the  cave's  mouth. 

When  she  had  gone  I  closed  the  slender  opening 

Through  which  I  had  unceasingly  watched 

The  moon's  long  journey  for  her, 

And  for  the  first  time  in  many  pitiless  suns 

I  fell  into  the  deep  visionless  sleep 

Of  the  body  tired  past  endurance. 

It  was  near  evening  when  my  Mother  wakened  me. 
She  told  me,  her  eyes  burning  deep  into  mine, 
How  hunters  in  the  forest  had  found  Couy-oiiy 
Fleeing  like  a  doe  before  the  furious  black  kille. 

When  she  fell,  her  utmost  strength  exhausted, 

Over  her  raged  the  foaming  black  death. 

Her  beautiful  breast  and  arms 

Were  forever  shorn  of  their  smoothness, 

But  she  lived,  and  her  hateful  face  of  allurement 

Her  trouble-maker  face,  was  untouched. 

I  knew  what  my  Mother  knew 
When  she  turned  from  my  doorway. 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    35 

Medicine  Man,  the  killer  had  not  struck 

To  the  depth  where  life  tented. 

She  had  not  sent  my  enemy  to  the  Great  Spirit. 

She  had  only  moved  to  compassion 

The  heart  in  the  breast  of  Mountain  Lion, 

So  that  alone  in  his  canoe  he  speared  the  rare  fish, 

Alone  on  the  mountains  he  sought  the  tender  bird, 

Even  the  bright  flower,  the  red  leaf, 

To  lay  at  her  doorway — love's  offering. 

Well  I  knew  that  when  she  was  healed 

He  would  stand  tall  and  straight  before  her, 

And  in  his  fierce  pleading  eyes 

She  would  find  the  great  understanding. 

Then,  Medicine  Man,  despair  settled  in  my  heart; 

I  shrivelled  like  the  ungathered  wild  plum, 

I  burned  with  a  fierce,  hot  inward  fire. 

The  day  came  when  Couy-oiiy  stood  forth 
Whitely  robed  in  shining  wonder, 
Untouched  in  her  courage  and  her  beauty 
Save  that  she  hid  her  arms  with  deep  fringes. 

In  bitterness  of  spirit  I  turned  from  her, 

I  followed  the  long  lonely  trail 

Through  the  fringed  blue  flower  meadows. 

I  lay  beside  the  small  still  waters  of  the  flat  lands, 

And  I  talked  to  my  sister,  the  tall  blue  Heron 


36  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

While  she  hunted  food  among  the  water  flowers; 
And  I  told  the  wise  old  Heron 
For  the  easement  of  my  torture, 
I  told  her,  O  Medicine  Man, 
This  same  tale  I  tell  you. 

And  then,  Medicine  Man, 
The  Heron  gave  me  a  sure  sign. 

She  stalked  to  where  a  great  white  flower 
Was  resting  in  serene  beauty, 
Like  a  sheaf  of  fallen  moons  upon  the  water, 
And  from  beneath  the  safety  of  its  shelter 
She  picked  out  my  little  frog  brother  so  .easily. 

She  tossed  him  clear  and  high  in  the  air, 
And  head  first  he  shot  down  her  long  red  gullet. 
Then  she  looked  at  me  questioningly 
And  awaited  my  understanding. 

So  I  slipped  from  my  robe  of  doeskin, 
And  fighting  my  way  through  the  black  muck, 
And  the  snares  of  the  entangling  round  leaves, 
I  gathered  the  white  flower  riding  like  a  spirit  canoe 
That  had  sheltered  fatness  for  my  sister  Heron. 

Clean  and  white  as  storm  foam  I  washed  it, 
Carefully  on  the  home  trail  I  carried  it, 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    37 

Like  a  living  thing  to  my  wigwam  I  took  it. 
And  I  put  it  in  a  cooking  kettle 
Overflowing  cold  water  from  mountain  torrent, 
Then  I  waited  for  the  spirit  to  make  me  a  sure  sign. 

That  night,  when  Couy-oiiy's  shadow  touched  me, 

Like  a  star  fallen  from  on  high  was  her  beauty. 

Her  eyes  rested  for  the  first  time 

On  the  white  flower  of  the  still  waters. 

On  her  knees  she  made  a  little  medicine  over  it; 

In  her  throat  she  chanted  a  hushed  song 

Of  exultation  and  worship, 

Over  the  wonder  beauty  of  the  white  flower 

That  she  had  never  known 

In  the  far,  cold  land  of  the  Killimacs. 

On  her  face  there  was  a  veiling  breath  mist 
Like  the  softest  ray  from  the  lovers'  moon; 
All  around  her  wrapped  the  blue  light  blanket 
That  seemed  to  steal  from  her  body 
Creeping  through  her  white  robe. 

Then,  Medicine  Man,  I  told  her  this  fair  tale: 

That  I  loved  a  young  Brave 

Son  of  the  mighty  Eagle  Feather, 

The  Chief  of  a  high  mountain  tribe  far  north  of  us, 

And  that  when  he  saw  me  in  the  deep  forest 

Holding  up  high  the  fair  water  flower 


38  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

The  lure  of  its  white  magic 

Would  make  in  his  cold  heart 

That  strong  medicine  I  needed, 

To  bring  him  face  to  face  with  me 

In  that  great  understanding 

Which  is  followed  by  union,  among  our  tribes. 

O  Medicine  Man,  I  told  her  by  word 

And  by  convincing  sign  talk 

That  if  her  heart  ran  soft  as  gold  sweetness 

At  the  coming  of  any  of  our  young  Braves, 

And  her  roving  eyes  flew  to  them 

Searching  for  loving  understanding, 

Until  she  feared  they  would  betray  her, 

And  the  tongue  of  her  heart  pled  for  them, 

And  her  willing  hands  thought  sweet  sign  talk — 

If  she  would  hold  aloft  the  white  flower, 

That  she  had  gathered  from  the  water, 

Deep  in  the  thickness  of  the  forest 

Where  none  but  her  Brave  could  see  it, 

It  would  surely  make  for  her  the  great  magic 

That  would  draw  him  straight  to  the  flame 

Of  the  candle  she  set  before  her  wigwam. 

Long  and  long  and  long  again 

She  watched  the  white  flower. 

All  her  heart  melted  at  its  gold  heart  sweetness; 

And  then  she  looked  deep  into  my  eyes, 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    39 

To  spirit  depths  she  searched  me  carefully, 
But  pride  would  not  let  me  quail  before  her. 

She  knew  she  had  barely  missed 

The  peril  of  the  death  snake:      . 

She  had  sent  hunters  to  bring  its  rattles  for  her. 

She  knew  she  had  faced  the  red  death 

By  the  black  killer  of  the  treasure  cave; 

Yet  was  my  spirit  so  strong  over  her  doubting 

That  once  again  in  the  chill  of  early  morning 

She  set  her  proud  feet  confidently 

On  the  forest  trail  I  pictured  for  her. 

She  knew  not  how  the  white  flower 
Of  the  still  water  lifted  to  the  sun. 
She  knew  not  the  wind  reeds  and  flute  rushes. 

I  told  her  the  path  her  feet  must  follow  alone, 

That  when  she  saw  a  white  flower 

Like  a  rocking  canoe  cradled  by  soft  wind, 

Riding  on  the  breast  of  the  blue  water. 

She  should  leave  her  robe  in  the  deep  forest, 

She  should  run  like  the  chased  antelope, 

And  leap  from  the  sand  shore 

To  the  resting  place  of  the  flower. 

She  should  snatch  it  in  her  hand,  hold  it  high, 

And  swim  back  to  the  red  beach  of  dawning. 


40  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

But  Medicine  Man,  O  Medicine  Man, 
I  sent  her  not  on  the  meadow  path 
Where  the  war  ponies  fattened. 
I  sent  her  not  to  the  still  black  water 
Of  the  singing  reeds  and  rushes. 
Where  the  charmed  spirit  flowers 
With  sun  hearts  and  snow  faces 
Spread  in  flocks  like  feeding  gulls 
Over  the  breast  of  the  dark  waters. 

Medicine  Man,  I  sent  her  straight  to  that  one  spot 
On  the  sands  of  the  great  sea  water  in  the  deep  bay, 
In  the  sheltered  cove  of  the  soundless  depths 
Where  every  Canawac  knew  there  crouched  waiting 
The  hungry  Monster  of  the  lazy  sucking  sands. 

Again  I  watched  all  the  moon  time 

And  in  the  gold  red  morning 

She  slipped  from  her  wigwam 

And  entered  the  ancient  forest. 

Soft  as  flame  ascending,  swift  as  night  bird  flying, 

I  circled  past  her  among  my  familiar  tree  brothers. 

Long  before  her  coming  to  the  bay  of  torture, 

I  dropped  the  snaring  white  flower, 

Fresh  and  lovely,  a  convincing  decoy, 

Far  into  the  heart  of  the  pitiless  death  pool 

Where  the  eager  mouths  of  the  swallowing  sands 

Embrace  and  draw,  quietly,  but  so  surely 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    41 

That  no  strength  of  arm  can  lift, 

No  power  of  spirit  can  save  their  victim. 

Behind  the  rocks  I  hid  and  waited; 
In  anguish  I  prayed  to  the  Great  Spirit 
That  the  luring  white  flower  of  wonder 
Might  rest  on  the  gently  heaving  water 
Until  the  time  of  the  coming  of  my  enemy. 

As  I  waited  with  my  eyes  ever  watching,  watching 
The  wave  cradled  flower  white  as  swan  feathers, 
Through  the  air  shot  the  slim  scarred  form 
Of  Coiiy-ouy,  my  hated  enemy. 

Her  slender  feet  touched  the  water 

And  went  down  softly  as  a  diving  bird, 

Her  reaching  hand  caught  the  white  flower  surely. 

She  lifted  her  face  to  the  face  of  the  morning; 
The  beauty  that  shone  upon  her 
Was  like  the  beauty  of  the  Great  Spirit 
When  he  had  first  the  vision  of  the  flower  world 
And  the  wonder  of  flower  magic  was  sent  to  him. 

Coiiy-ouy  held  the  water  flower  in  high  triumph; 
She  gazed  at  it,  she  laughed  to  it,  she  kissed  it, 
She  laid  it  against  her  glad  face  like  a  papoose, 
And  chanted  to  it  throaty  words  of  lullaby. 


42  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Then  with  the  other  hand  and  with  her  quick  feet 
She  began  swimming  to  reach  the  certain  shore. 

When  her  light  feet  would  not  lift  to  the  surface 

And  her  strong  stroke  would  not  move  her  body, 

Slowly  the  dawn  light  faded  from  her  face 

And  a  look  like  the  look  of  a  little  hurt  papoose 

Came  over  her  in  slow  wonder — 

A  look  of  surprise,  of  doubt 

That  her  strength  could  be  unavailing. 

Then  she  struggled  like  an  arrow  stricken  sea  bird, 
For  the  sure  sands  grip  their  captive  cruelly. 

Then  gray  terrors  came  sweeping  upon  her, 

And  her  face  was  white,  white  as  the  white  flower 

That  she  held  at  arm's  length  above  her. 

Her  black  oiled  braids  floated  out  on  the  water, 
While  a  cry,  a  shrill  cry,  a  high  screaming  cry, 
The  voice  of  a  wounded  mountain  lion, 
Rang  from  her  lips  in  quivering  terror. 

I  knew  who  had  carefully  taught  her 

To  use  that  cry  in  time  of  trouble : 

I  knew  that  for  my  Brave  she  was  calling. 

And  I  knew,  too,  how  the  wood  and  the  water 

Carried  sound  far  distances  to  wild  ears. 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    43 

I  wondered  if  Mountain  Lion  were  on  the  water 

Or  if  he  were  hunting  the  wide  forest 

Or  if  he  were  drilling  ornaments  of  blue  shell 

Or  weaving  the  sacred,  singing  fire  bird 

A  new  wigwam  of  gold  osiers. 

Only  once  she  screamed  that  awful  wild  cry, 
Then  her  struggles  were  the  final  battle. 
Already  her  face  of  anguish  was  even 
With  the  treacherous  water  hiding  death. 
Already  her  slender  body  was  forever  encased. 

One  arm  slowly  beat  the  fair  bay  helplessly; 
But  even  as  the  gray  terror  closed  in  upon  her. 
The  stealthy  catlike  death  of  the  waves 
And  the  little  famished  mouths  of  sand, 
The  slow  mealy  strangling  sands, 
She  bravely  held  aloft  the  white  flower. 

And  then,  Medicine  Man,  I  cared  not  if  he  came, 
The  Mountain  Lion,  my  faithless  man! 
The  utmost  reach  of  his  strength  could  not  save  her, 
He  might  go  down  to  bottomless  depths  with  her; 
He  might  strive  and  bear  me  down  to  her. 
Come  was  my  just  and  rightful  hour  of  triumph ! 

I  arose  and  went  forth  on  the  white  shore 
I  smiled  like  a  mother  upon  her, 


44  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Then  I  pointed  my  finger,  I  laughed  in  scorn, 

I  made  bad  sign  talk  at  her, 

I  danced  the  Braves'  triumph  dance,  with  song, 

I  cried  to  her  in  the  exultation  of  victory: 

"He  will  not  come  again  to  you, 

The  faithless  Mountain  Lion,  my  man, 

He  who  danced  the  sacred  Mating  Dance 

Of  the  Mandanas  with  me  in  the  Council  Lodge, 

He  who  read  into  my  eyes  the  great  understanding 

Even  upon  the  night  of  your  coming  among  us. 

Go  thou  back  to  the  evil  spirits  who  sent  thee!" 

Until  the  last  wave  overran  her  eyes, 

The  slim  thing  of  bone  hardness, 

Of  arrow  straightness,  and  sureness, 

Of  bird  swiftness,  would  not  look  once  upon  me, 

Would  not  plead  with  me  for  mercy 

Nor  sign  for  help  at  my  hands. 

When  she  saw  me  she  suddenly  ceased  to  struggle, 

And  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  white  flower, 

The  fallen  moon  that  rides  the  still  black  water, 

She  went  to  bottomless  depths  silently; 

Slowly,  slowly,  Medicine  Man,  she  sank, 

Until  the  flower  again  rested 

On  the  breast  of  the  unconscious  water. 

Then  I  went  into  the  forest  on  her  trail, 

I  hunted  her  precious  robe  of  snow  white  doeskin, 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    45 

I  rolled  a  heavy  stone  in  its  rich  bead  work: 
I  carried  it  back  swiftly, 
And  upon  the  face  of  the  white  flower 
Slowly  sinking  beneath  the  water  I  threw  it. 

Then  I  knelt  in  cunning  like  the  fox, 
And  swiftly  working  my  way  backward, 
With  my  steady,  careful  fingers 
I  sifted  the  sands  over  our  footsteps, 
Until  I  came  to  the  feather  grass 
And  the  dry  leaves  of  the  deep  forest. 

Like  the  hunted  I  ran  to  the  safety  of  my  wigwam, 

I  buried  myself  in  my  soft  robes  of  satisfaction, 

My  heart  laughed  in  victory, 

The  sleep  I  had  lost  for  many  mocking  moons 

While  my  brain  thought  snares, 

Now  settled  heavy,  like  sickness  upon  me. 

Even  as  I  slept  in  deep  stupor, 

There  came  dreams  and  yet  again  dreams, 

But  they  were  not  familiar  dreams 

Of  the  low  humming  rattler 

Nor  the  foaming  mouth  of  the  knife  footed  killer. 

I  dreamed  that  over  my  heart  flamed  and  scorched 

And  burned  Couy-ouy,  the  little  sacred  red  bird; 

While  my  hands  could  not  braid 

And  put  the  gay  ornaments  in  my  hair, 


46  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Could  not  put  on  my  robe, 

Could  not  tie  my  moccasins. 

Could  not  lift  food  to  my  hungry  mouth, 

Because  they  were  full  of  the  white  flowers 

From  the  land  of  the  still  water. 

When  the  alarum  cries  sounded 

And  the  ponies'  feet  thundered, 

When  the  hunting  dogs  raged 

And  shrill  clamour  arose  in  the  camp, 

My  Mother  shook  me, 

And  long  she  looked  deep  into  my  eyes 

And  I  looked  into  her  eyes; 

And  then  in  the  silent  talk  of  our  tribe 

I  made  the  swift  going  down  sign 

Of  the  Monster  sands  of  the  far  bay. 

There  was  no  triumph  on  her  face 

When  she  slowly  turned  from  me, 

And  fear  was  born  in  my  heart 

Because  I  clearly  saw  its  awful  image 

When  it  sprang  into  life  in  the  deeps  of  her  eyes, 

When  the  scouts  and  hunters  were  gathering, 
When  the  visiting  Chief  was  threatening, 
And  all  of  our  Chiefs  were  in  secret  council, 
While  the  women  were  wailing  the  death  cry, 


COUY-OUY  AND  MOUNTAIN  LION    47 

There  came  to  my  lodge  in  that  hour, 
The  footsteps  I  had  always  awaited. 
So  I  passed  through  my  doorway 
And  in  the  revealing  sunlight 
I  stood  before  Mountain  Lion, 
Terrible  to  face  in  his  deep  rage. 

With  dazed  hand  I  drew  sleep  from  my  eyes; 
I  met  his  gaze  stupidly  with  smiling  face; 
When  he  saw  this  he  was  forced  to  doubt 
The  thing  he  had  come  expecting  to  see. 
When  he  tried  to  look  far  into  my  eyes  for  a  sign 
He  saw  only  stupid  Old  Man  Sleep  sitting  there 
Mocking  the  tortured  heart  in  his  breast. 

Then  he  caught  me  fiercely  by  the  shoulders, 

He  drew  me  close  to  him, 

He  forced  my  eyes  to  meet  his, 

And  low  and  hoarse  he  cried  to  me  in  torture: 

"She  jumped  to  the  mark  of  the  sky  flower, 

And  the  snake  with  death  in  its  mouth  was  there; 

The  mark  was  the  mark  you  set  for  her,  Yiada. 

"She  went  to  the  far,  lonely  cave 
Of  the  chased  and  hungry  black  death, 
And  the  rare  shell  that  she  sought 
Was  a  part  of  your  treasure,  Yiada. 


48  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

"Again  she  is  missing,  evil  spirits  know  how  long. 
What  torture  death  have  you  sent  her  seeking  now — 
Coiiy-ouy,  my  brave  fire  bird,  my  woman?" 

0  Medicine  Man,  if  he  had  not  said  soft  words, 

1  might  have  told  him  as  he  held  me  before  him. 
I  might  have  braved  the  storm  of  his  wrath 
And  made  my  journey  to  the  Great  Spirit 

In  that  menacing  breath. 

When  I  saw  that  she  lived  in  my  place 

In  the  secret  tent  of  his  heart 

I  laughed  at  him  and  I  cried  tauntingly: 

"She  is  chasing  painted  wings 

In  the  pasture  meadows  of  the  valley. 

She  is  at  the  still  pool  hunting  the  water  flower: 

She  would  use  its  white  magic 

To  snare  your  wild  heart, 

Even  as  she  used  the  red  magic  of  the  fire  bird. 

Go  and  seek  her,  O  mighty  hunter! 

Go  and  seek — until  you  find  her!" 


"'Like  the  wings  of  a  snow  white  sea  swallow 
Writing  mating  signs  on  the  blue  sky  of  Heaven 
Flashed  his  quick  hands  of  entreaty, 
In  the  little  love  sign  talk  he  taught  her." 


PART  III 
YIADA'S  FLIGHT  TO  THE  MANDANAS 

When  the  hunters  had  raced  from  our  village 

Toward  the  land  of  ice, 

Toward  the  land  of  hot  suns, 

Toward  the  land  of  dawn, 

And  where  the  sun  dives  in  the  sea, 

In  the  conflicting  cross  winds 

Between  the  paths  of  their  going, 

On  their  stoutest  ponies 

Rode  the  young  women  and  the  squaws 

Who  could  be  spared  with  safety 

From  the  watch  of  the  campfires 

And  the  care  of  the  little  happy  children. 

Foremost  among  these  I  rode  on  my  fastest  pony, 
But  to  my  Mother  I  made  a  secret  sign 
To  remain  in  waiting  by  her  campfire 
And  yet  the  swifter  sign  of  the  quick  return. 

Because  I  was  first  in  the  fish  drying 

The  berry  picking  of  earth  and  mountain, 

49 


50  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

The  gathering  of  seeds  of  all  kinds 

And  the  work  of  the  women, 

The  other  maidens  went  where  I  sent  them. 

Then  swiftly  I  made  a  wide  circle 

And  slipped  back  to  the  lodge  of  my  Mother, 

And  leaving  my  pony  in  the  tented  forest 

I  crept  to  the  door  of  my  Father, 

Unseen  by  any  of  the  watchers. 

There  I  lay  in  hiding 

While  my  Mother  worked  silently. 

She  rolled  a  bundle  of  my  finest  robes, 

My  moccasins,  my  best  bow  and  full  quiver, 

Big  strips  of  smoked  venison, 

Dried  fish  and  bear  and  deer  meat, 

Nuts  and  tallow  cake  and  dried  berries, 

And  the  last  little  sweet  meal  cake 

That  her  hands  would  ever  make  me. 

When  Old  Man  Moon  made  soft  talk 

In  his  canoe  among  the  clouds, 

From  the  back  of  the  lodge  of  my  Father  I  crept 

After  I  had  stood  long  and  again  long 

Before  my  Mother,  racked  in  fierce  anguish, 

And  made  her  many  signs  of  the  great  crossing, 

For  we  knew  that  never  again  should  I  see  her. 

We  made  long  straight  talk  between  us 

That  when  the  others  returned  from  the  search 


YI ADA'S  FLIGHT  51 

I  should  be  missing,  as  was  Coiiy-ouy, 

So  that  a  new  search  would  be  made  for  my  body. 

Then  should  she  cry  the  death  wail 

Through  the  length  of  all  our  village  for  me; 

And  make  high  prayer  to  the  Great  Spirit 

For  my  safe  crossing  to  the  Happy  Lands. 

Thus  her  lodge  and  wigwams 

And  my  Father  and  brothers 

Would  be  saved  from  all  suspicion  of  treachery, 

And  to  the  mourning  of  the  Great  Chief 

Who  visited  our  campfires  in  confidence. 

Would  be  added  the  wailing  of  our  tribe  for  Yiada. 

I  rode  my  Father's  swiftest  remaining  pony, 

I  turned  my  face  between  the  sun's  rising 

And  the  hot  suns  of  the  South. 

I  slipped  through  the  forest  and  on,  and  on, 

Each  moon  on,  and  again  on, 

Fast  and  far  as  the  pony  could  run,  I  journeyed 

In  the  direction  where  my  Mother  had  told  me 

Lay  the  encampment  of  her  people,  the  Mandanas. 

When  the  tired  pony  could  travel  no  farther 
I  let  him  feed  and  rest  and  drink; 
And  then  again  I  rode,  moon  after  moon, 
Until  he  grew  lean  as  deep  snow  gray  wolf. 
When  I  had  eaten  the  last  crumb  of  meal  cake, 


52  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

And  there  was  nothing  left  in  my  bundle, 

But  tough  strings  of  deer  meat, 

I  came  one  sun-rising  to  signs  of  the  Mandanas. 

Then,  O  Medicine  Man, 

I  slipped  from  the  pony  and  bathed  carefully, 

I  oiled  my  body,  braided  my  hair  with  ornaments 

And  I  put  on  a  snow  white  robe 

Whose  bleaching  had  been  taught  my  Mother 

By  Couy-oiiy  as  a  secret  art. 

I  stripped  the  beads  and  the  obsidian 

From  my  heaviest  necklace  for  ceremonials 

And  wore  only  the  sky  water  blue 

Of  the  precious  blue  shell. 

When  I  looked  into  the  shining  water 

Above  the  white  sands  of  the  lake  bed, 

I  saw  in  my  face  great  beauty  like  high  magic, 

Wrought  by  the  fear  painter,  the  hunger  moon, 

The  far  stealthy  journey,  the  anxious  heart — 

Beauty  even  greater  than  the  beauty  of  Couy-oiiy. 

And  so,  O  Medicine  Man, 

At  fire  lighting  I  rode  into  the  village. 

The  spies  and  the  couriers  raced  before  me, 

Crying  the  wonder  of  my  coming, 

The  fierce,  snarling  dogs  yapped  after  me, 

The  frightened  children  ran  from  me, 


YIADA'S  FLIGHT  53 

Angered  squaws  with  harsh  voices 

Cried  threatening,  forbidding  words  at  me. 

When  I  came  to  the  door  of  the  Council  House 

At  the  head  of  the  long  village  of  fatness, 

I  slipped  from  my  pony,  and  leading  him  after  me 

I  walked  to  the  feet  of  the  Great  Chief 

Sitting  in  solemn  state  on  his  throne; 

I  gave  him  the  deeps  of  my  troubled  spirit. 

My  eyes  slowly  unfolded  to  his  eyes 

The  tale  of  the  robbed  heart, 

Of  the  tortured  sleep,  of  the  lone  moon  trail, 

Of  a  fugitive  from  the  arrows  of  an  enemy. 

With  Mandan  speech  and  by  the  sign  language 

I  told  him  that  I  was  of  his  blood, 

Of  his  tribe  through  my  Mother; 

Seeking  refuge  with  her  people, 

And  I  told  him,  O  Medicine  Man, 

These  things  of  woe,  I  now  tell  you. 

Beside  him  came  the  Great  Chiefs  and  wise  men, 
Around  him  the  warriors,  the  spies  and  hunters; 
While  back  of  the  chiefs,  dim  in  the  firelight, 
Again  and  again  I  felt  the  eye  of  a  mighty  hunter, 
A  young  Brave,  with  the  broad  shoulders 
The  round  face  of  compassion, 


54  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

And  the  softer  eye  of  the  Mandanas 

Of  the  lands  where  peace  homed  securely. 

Little  of  my  story  had  I  told  the  Chieftain, 

As  straight  and  fearless  I  faced  him, 

Before  I  knew  in  my  heart  that  over  his  head 

I  was  speaking  to  the  stirred  heart  of  his  son. 

I  was  asking  of  him  rest  and  meat,  and  tribe  rights, 

Even  as  Coiiy-ouy  had  asked  meal  and  water 

Of  Mountain  Lion,  instead  of  our  women, 

For  the  broken  fire  bird  that  rested  on  her  breast. 

As  I  asked  I  knew  the  answer  in  his  heart; 

For  I  was  tall  and  I  was  seasoned, 

And  I  was  tortured  beyond  bearing, 

And  I  was  beautiful  with  a  living  spirit  beauty 

Far  above  that  of  the  Mandan  women  around  me. 

When  they  learned  that  my  Mother 

Was  of  their  tribe  in  her  youth, 

That  I  had  fled  as  the  hunted  for  cave  rights, 

They  held  counsel,  and  they  set  me  a  tall  wigwam; 

They  gave  me  the  rich  food  of  a  welcome  guest, 

And  they  led  me  to  my  wrinkled,  gray  grandfather. 

The  great  council  of  Chiefs  and  Medicine  Men, 
The  wise  men  and  all  of  the  young  Braves 
Made  Mandan  sign  talk  to  hold  me  securely, 


YIADA'S  FLIGHT  55 

As  if  born  of  their  tribe  and  village, 

Even  if  Mountain  Lion  suspected  treachery 

And  rode  in  war  paint  against  them  for  vengeance. 

Then  was  my  body  lazy  with  rich  comfort 

But  my  spirit  was  gray  ashes 

Burned  out  by  the  flames  of  the  fire  bird 

Nesting  in  the  heart  of  my  breast. 

I  was  all  over  sick  for  my  Mother, 

For  my  brothers  and  my  Father,  who  loved  me, 

For  the  clear  sky,  the  heavy  clouds, 

And  the  taunting  water  of  the  restless  sea, 

For  the  fat  grass,  the  flower  valleys 

And  the  tall  mountains,  with  head-bands  of  snow, 

For  the  night  fires  of  village  and  Council  Lodge, 

And  the  little  honey  cakes  of  my  Mother; 

While  I  dared  not  even  remember 

The  face  of  Mountain  Lion's  agony, 

As  I  tortured  him  in  derision, 

And  he  turned  from  me  in  hot  anger. 

As  the  sign  was  in  the  deep  eyes  of  Star  Face, 

Son  of  the  Great  Chief,  the  night  of  my  coming, 

So  it  was  in  the  suns  that  followed. 

Well  I  knew  that  in  the  day 

When  he  saw  candle  lighting  in  my  eyes 

His  willing  feet  would  dance  before  me 

The  hated  Love  Dance  of  the  Mandanas. 


56  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

He  was  a  broad  Brave,  a  fierce  Brave,  a  warrior. 

He  would  sit  at  the  council  in  the  seat  of  his  father 

When  he  had  made  his  last  journey 

To  the  far  Spirit  Lands  of  final  peace. 

His  earth-lodge  would  be  warm 

With  the  skins  of  beaver,  mink  and  otter; 

While  the  white  dress  of  a  great  Princess 

From  the  bleached  and  softened  doeskin, 

Beaded  with  the  sign  of  the  Chiefs  mate, 

Would  cover  my  sick  heart  with  the  robe  of  pride. 

So  hard  I  worked,  O  Medicine  Man, 

From  the  lifting  to  the  setting  of  every  sun, 

So  long  I  danced  at  night  in  the  Assembly  Lodge, 

That  when  I  walked  to  my  wigwam 

Sleep  came  swift  and  deep  upon  me. 

Sometimes  I  lay  visionless, 

My  body  worn  to  stone  heaviness; 

Sometimes  the  flaming  bird  burned  my  breast 

To  gray  ashes,  like  dead  campfires, 

And  the  white  lilies  overflowed  my  unwilling  hands 

Until  I  fought  to  keep  from  choking  among  them, 

Even  as  Coiiy-ouy  was  smothered 

By  the  little  yielding  wave  hidden  sands. 

When  I  had  worked  that  season 
Until  the  troubling  mating  moon 


YIADA'S  FLIGHT  57 

Sailed  like  a  polished  pearl  canoe  in  the  Spring  sky, 

When  the  hurrying  blood  of  the  trees 

Ran  fast  in  the  red  and  yellow  osiers, 

When  the  birches,  givers  of  large  gifts, 

Put  out  their  little  talking  leaves  of  gold, 

When  strange  birds  made  love  chase  in  the  forest 

And  the  fish  leaped  high  from  the  shallow  water 

As  the  yellow  spawn  they  planted  and  quickened, 

There  came  a  night  of  quivering  moon  magic 

When,  after  all  the  others  had  assembled, 

Star  Face  entered  the  Council  Lodge, 

His  head  lifted  to  face  the  star  country, 

And  the  great  wealth  of  his  riches 

Rode  flauntingly  from  head-band  to  moccasins. 

He  had  scoured  his  skin  to  fading  softness, 
He  had  oiled  his  body  to  birch  bark  smoothness, 
His  braided  hair  was  filled  with  eagle  feathers, 
With  quill  feathers  of  white  swan 
And  wing  pinions  of  wild  turkey. 

He  was  robed  in  the  soft  gray  skins  of  the  otter; 
On  his  feet  were  beaded  moccasins  of  deerskin; 
In  his  hand  was  a  broad  fan  of  the  wing  feathers 
Of  the  proud  and  contented  white  swan, 
Round  his  neck  lay  heavy  shining  ornaments 
Made  from  the  teeth  and  the  cutting  claws  " 
Of  many  black  and  brown  bear, 


58  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Of  fierce  mountain  lion  and  wildcat, 

And  the  big  teeth  of  the  elk  and  moose, 

Carved  copper  and  cunningly  pierced  bone  beads, 

From  obsidian  and  little  singing  shells. 

The  dance  of  the  maidens  was  beginning 
When  he  entered  in  high  pride. 
He  came  through  the  long  Lodge 
And  stood  with  compelling  eye  before  me, 
And  before  his  Father  on  the  throne, 
And  his  Mother,  his  brothers  and  sisters, 
The  whole  council  of  Chiefs  and  wise  men 
And  all  the  assembled  people  of  his  tribe. 

Slowly  he  began  the  Mating  Dance 

Of  the  Mandana  who  would  prevail, 

While  his  eyes  like  coals  from  the  campfire 

Seared  my  body  to  action — 

The  eyes  of  black  bear  when  he  is  facing  the  hunter, 

The  fierce  eyes  of  the  starving  panther 

When  the  hunger  moon  is  shining, 

The  scouting  eyes  of  the  eagle  of  high  spaces, 

Seeking  a  mate  in  the  far  country  of  the  stars. 

When  he  had  danced  the  dance  of  allurement 
To  the  last  stamped  out  measure, 
Straightway  I  walked  to  the  feet 
Of  his  powerful  Father,  on  his  throne, 


YIADA'S  FLIGHT  59 

And  in  the  speech  of  the  Mandanas  I  said  to  him: 

"Great  Chief,  thou  hast  seen  the  dance 

Of  thy  mighty  son.  Star  Face. 

If  I  dance  the  ancient  Mating  Dance 

Of  the  unconquered  Mandanas 

This  night  before  thee,  for  Star  Face, 

Even  as  he  has  danced  before  thee,  for  me, 

Great  and  powerful  Chief,. am  I  of  thy  people?" 

The  Great  Chief  looked  into  my  eyes  and  said: 
"Thou  art  of  mine,  even  as  Star  Face  is  my  son; 
With  our  last  arrow,  with  our  last  battle  axe, 
With  the  stoutest  blood  of  our  hearts 
Will  our  Braves  defend  thee  forever." 

The  next  sun,  the  young  women 
Set  me  a  tall  prideful  wigwam  apart. 
They  bathed  and  oiled  my  heart  sick  body; 
They  beaded  and  feathered  fine  robes 
For  the  mating  ceremonials  of  a  rich  Brave. 

In  another  tent  all  of  the  young  men 

Were  busy  preparing  Star  Face  for  our  union. 

Down  the  long  wide  trail 

Of  the  swarming,  bee  like  village 

The  painted  criers  on  swift  horses 

Were  announcing  the  marriage  of  Yiada, 


60  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Daughter  of  the  far  and  friendly  Canawacs, 
And  Star  Face,  the  son  of  the  Head  Chief 
Of  the  boastful  Mandanas — the  proud  ones! 

So,  with  the  full  Mandan  ceremonial, 
I  gave  my  tortured  body  to  Star  Face. 

There  was  no  heart  left  in  me,  O  Medicine  Man, 

And  that  Star  Face  might  not  miss  it, 

When  he  looked  in  my  eyes  in  tenderness, 

I  gave  to  him  such  willing  and  sure  service 

As  no  other  Chief  of  the  Mandanas  had  ever  known, 

Soft  were  the  skins  that  bedded  his  wigwams, 

Warm  his  earth-lodge  against  the  sting  of  winter, 

Sweet  was  the  crisp  squaw  bread 

That  bubbled  in  his  fat  kettles, 

Gold  was  the  mountain  of  tallow 

Stacked  in  his  storehouse  for  winter, 

High  heaped  were  the  nuts  of  tree  and  bush 

Gathered  and  husked  against  the  Ice  Chief, 

Rich  were  the  berries  dried  with  sunshine, 

Boiled  back  to  tenderness,  honey  sweetened. 

And,  Medicine  Man, 

No  other  Brave  served  his  mate  as  Star  Face. 

High  and  boastful  was  his  pride 

When  I  gave  him  a  straight  little  chieftain, 


YIADA'S  FLIGHT  61 

And  great  to  pain  was  my  joy 

When  I  oiled  the  little  fading: 

For  the  fire  ever  burning  in  my  heart 

Had  not  scorched  his  small  body, 

The  fulness  of  my  hands  had  set  no  mark  upon  him. 

He  was  a  young  chieftain  of  spirit  magic 

Who  in  suns  before  his  coming  to  my  lodge, 

Had  ridden  on  the  backs  of  milk  white  fawns 

Over  the  floating  thistle  seed  trail 

That  we  saw  nightly  in  the  country  of  the  stars, 

Who  had  played  with  baby  beavers 

In  their  village  at  the  creek's  mouth, 

Who  had  hunted  canyon  ways, 

Stout  heart  with  bear  and  panther, 

Who  had  sailed  over  tall  mountains  with  the  eagle, 

Who  had  hung  in  the  eye  of  the  sun 

With  the  silver  winged  falcon, 

Who  had  fished  angry  waters  with  the  crafty  mink, 

Who  had  raced  among  the  white  birches 

With  the  soft  eyed  does  of  Spring, 

And  slept  deep  with  his  tall  blue  heron  brothers 

In  their  rough  nests  among  the  wailing  cedars. 

Every  sun  I  watched  him, 
Every  moon  my  fear-filled  hand  was  on  him. 
Ever  his  gay  cradle  was  light  in  my  eye 
Its  tinkling  shells  sweet  music  in  my  ears. 


62  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

When  he  could  walk  with  strength 

I  led  him  to  the  meadows,  to  the  forest, 

And  I  taught  him — thou  knowest, 

O  Medicine  Man,  thou  knowest  well, 

How  carefully  I  taught  him 

Our  every  custom  and  tradition; 

And  how  Star  Face  trained  him  with  the  bow, 

To  fish  the  rough  waters,  to  ride  the  wild  ponies, 

And  how  he  taught  him  all  the  laws  and  customs 

For  young  Braves  who  would  be  warriors. 

Thou  knowest  how  all  of  the  tribe  shouted 

When  first  he  sat  his  pony  alone, 

And  rode  it  through  the  village  at  its  racing  speed. 

And  then,  O  Medicine  Man,  thou  knowest  the  day 

When  first  he  strayed  far  from  me 

With  the  little  curious  feet  of  childhood, 

And  now,  now,  I  hear  the  wild  shrieks  of  terror 

When  the  snake  that  has  death  in  its  mouth 

Struck  its  pitiless  fangs  into  his  tender  flesh. 

When  his  little  blanket  wrapped  body, 
Looking  so  long  and  straight,  and  lonely, 
Was  carried  to  the  far,  haunted  death  village 
All  the  forest  echoed  wild  cries  of  mourning 
From  a  thousand  wigwams  of  desolation 
And  earth-lodges  that  loved  him. 


YIADA'S  FLIGHT  63 

My  stiff  lips  made  no  sound, 

My  robbed  hands  lay  death's  captive, 

For  my  eyes  saw  again  the  nut  thicket, 

And  the  thing  the  sky  flower  sheltered, 

My  ears  again  heard  the  soft  buzzing  menace. 

Well  I  knew  that  Coiiy-ouy 

Had  escaped  the  watchful  Great  Spirit, 

That  she  had  come  back  to  earth 

To  strike  me  through  the  death  snake, 

That  hers  were  the  fangs  of  poison 

Buried  deep  in  my  little  fading. 

Thou  knowest,  Medicine  Man, 
How  another  little  chief  came  to  me, 
And  how  again,  with  all  the  wild  magic 
All  the  wisdom  of  our  tribe, 
All  the  strength  in  our  power 
And  the  cunning  of  our  hearts  of  love, 
The  great  Star  Face,  and  I,  his  strong  mate, 
Strove  over  the  life  of  our  son. 

Thou  knowest  how  he  shouted 

When  to  us  there  came  a  little  sister. 

And  then  the  black  day,  that  dread  day 

Thou  knowest  well  as  any, 

When  tall  and  straight  he  entered  the  forest  alone 

To  strive  for  the  first  vision  from  the  Great  Spirit. 


64  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Without  food  and  without  sleep 

I  knelt  silent  in  my  lonely  wigwam; 

With  one  hand  ever  easing  my  burning  breast 

With  the  other  I  fought  back 

The  slowly  rising  tide  of  the  white  flowers, 

The  luring  spirit  flowers  of  destruction 

That  home  on  the  still  lake  waters. 

I  needed  not  the  chilling  death  cry 

That  came  to  my  ears  three  suns  later: 

I  knew  surely  that  my  little  chieftain 

Would  not  come  back  to  me  from  the  forest. 

He  still  breathed  when  the  hunters 

Brought  before  me  his  stout  body 

Ripped  deep  by  the  cruel  knives  of  the  killer. 

The  black  death,  man's  height  and  buffalo  heavy, 

Lay  dead  in  the  far  uptorn  pitying  forest 

Where  they  had  battled  for  their  lives. 

It  had  been  the  greatest  fight 

That  youth  had  ever  waged  in  our  tribe. 

All  night  the  anxious  Medicine  Men 

Made  their  strongest  Medicine  for  him; 

But  the  green  sickness  was  eating  his  slender  body, 

In  the  morning,  O  Medicine  Man, 

Coiiy-ouy  again  danced  her  triumph  dance, 

Again  scored  victory  over  me, 


YIADA'S  FLIGHT  65 

When  our  unavailing  death  wail 

Beat  against  the  copper  face  of  heaven 

For  my  little  chieftain,  my  brave  little  warrior. 

Because  of  her  pointing  finger  no  cry  would  I  utter. 

Silently  in  my  tortured  wigwam 

I  writhed  in  the  flame  of  the  fire  bird 

And  choked  with  the  rising  sick  sweetness 

Of  the  hated  water  flower  of  the  pasture  lands. 

But  ever  I  held  in  a  tight  grasp 

The  clutching  hand  of  little  fat  face, 

And  my  ears  ached  with  her  shrill  wail 

For  the  long  journey  of  her  brother; 

For  she  had  ridden  his  racing  pony 

Before  him  on  the  saddle  on  far  trails, 

And  gathered  gay  flowers  in  the  valleys 

On  the  coloured  faces  of  high  hills, 

And  brought  me  the  little  juicy  birds 

From  the  snares  of  cunning  set  in  the  valleys, 

And  chased  the  war  painted  wings 

Where  the  hunting  ponies  pastured. 

Medicine  Man,  O  Medicine  Man, 

Barest  say  I  had  not  killing  torture? 

Bancroft  Ubrar 

When  the  burning  of  the  fire  bird  was  past  bearing, 
When  the  stifling  cloud  of  the  white  flowers 
Sickened  my  body  to  leanness, 


66  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

I  arose  and  began  skin  dressing  and  fish  drying 
And  seed  grinding  and  weaving  blankets. 

All  of  the  squaws  and  the  young  women 
Pointed  taunting  mischievous  fingers 
When,  silent,  I  passed  among  them. 
They  said:  "She  is  possessed  of  a  devil; 
Evil  spirits  drive  her  with  secret  arrows, 
It  is  with  strength  stolen  from  the  Spirits 
That  she  works  every  sun  at  the  fish  drying, 
The  meat  curing,  the  seed  gathering 
And  the  making  of  tents  not  needed. 

But  ever,  when  far  grown  I  carried  little  Dove  Eye, 
Little  cooing  bird,  on  my  aching  shoulders, 
Ever  I  pressed  her  against  my  burning  heart: 
I  would  not  trust  her  to  the  stoutest  cradle. 
Tightly  I  held  her  that  from  my  fear  strong  hands 
She  might  not  be  pushed  out  by  the  white  flowers. 

When  her  stumbling  little  feet  of  uncertainty 
Carried  her  to  the  willing  knees  of  Star  Face, 
Like  the  first  dawn  of  Spring  long  awaited 
Came  the  light  to  his  hungry  eyes, 
Like  the  soft  talking  brook  water 
Came  the  sweet  words  in  his  throat; 
Like  the  wings  of  a  snow  white  sea  swallow 
Writing  mating  signs  on  the  blue  sky  of  heaven 


YIADA'S  FLIGHT  67 

Flashed  his  quick  hands  of  entreaty, 
In  the  little  love  sign  talk  he  taught  her. 
Many  suns  he  sat  grinding  small  beads  of  bone 
Every  little  rare  white  shell  he  found, 
And  polishing  squirrel  and  otter  teeth 
For  the  necklace  she  wore  so  proudly. 

Never  did  I  leave  my  hands  free  of  her 
Unless  the  hands  of  Star  Face  were  upon  her. 
When  he  made  signs  of  soft  pale-faces 
I  made  signs  of  the  passing  of  spirits, 
So  he  saw  that  my  hands  ever  upon  her 
Were  only  that  I  might  hold  her  back 
From  the  land  of  the  great  Unseen; 
For  only  these  three,  Medicine  Man, 
Only  these  three  little  people, 
The  Great  Spirit  sent  to  my  lodge, 
From  the  far  land  of  cradle  filling. 

Always  when  we  came  near  still  or  running  water 

I  held  her  with  the  hug  of  black  bear. 

Before  she  might  chase  the  little  fishes, 

Even  in  the  shallow  inshore  water  of  the  bays, 

Or  hunt  the  clinging  mussel  for  food, 

Or  bathe  with  the  small  people, 

I  went  before  her  every  step 

And  always  my  feet  were  feeling,  searching, 

For  any  sign  of  the  sands  of  treachery. 


68  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

In  my  heart  I  said:  "They  shall  not  have  her, 

The  ravenous  Monster  mouths, 

They  shall  not  have  her,  the  pitiless  death  sands!" 

Thou  knowest,  Medicine  Man, 

The  season  of  the  great  pow-wow 

When  I  was  needed  at  the  fires  roasting  deer  meat, 

When  I  was  needed  to  set  the  forest  of  wigwams 

For  seven  tribes,  seeking  our  welcome, 

When  I  was  needed  to  make  swift  preparation, 

To  use  all  the  store  of  my  knowledge, 

For  the  coming  of  a  cloud  of  peoples 

From  far  countries  to  our  village, 

To  teach  us  of  their  experience 

And  to  learn  of  our  wisdom  from  us, 

Thou  knowest  that  day,  Medicine  Man — 

The  greatest  day  of  the  life  of  our  nation. 

I  held  little  Dove  Eye  tight 

Then  set  her  on  the  pony  of  Star  Face  before  him 

That  she  might  ride  to  meet  the  friendly  people. 

Thou  knowest  how  she  danced  to  him, 

And  beat  her  little  hands  in  triumph, 

How  she  snatched  at  the  sunbeams 

And  fluttered  her  fingers  to  me, 

Like  the  flying  painted  wings 

Honey  gathering  over  the  valley  pastures; 

How  she  made  me  the  sign  of  birds  far  flying, 


YIADA'S  FLIGHT  69 

When  she  rode  away  at  the  head  of  our  Braves, 
On  the  proud  pony  of  Star  Face. 

Thou  knowest  how  again  and  again,  harshly, 
I  made  the  sign  of  full  cradling  arms, 
Of  tight  holding,  of  unsleeping  spying, 
To  Star  Face  as  he  left  me. 

All  day  the  fire  bird  burned  my  heart 

All  day  I  heard  his  prison  song; 

I  stopped  work  at  the  smoking  baking  stones, 

To  push  back  the  hated  water  flowers 

Like  fulling  wool  from  the  wild  sheep's  back. 

Ever  I  pleadingly  prayed  the  Great  Spirit 

To  have  her  in  his  safe  keeping. 

And  thou  knowest  how  the  mighty  Chiefs 
Rode  with  bowed,  sorrowing  heads  before  me. 
Thou  knowest  how  Star  Face,  my  man, 
Stood  stricken  and  mourning  at  our  doorway, 
His  empty  hands  turned  down  in  sign  of  torture. 

Thou  knowest  the  tale  the  old  wise  man  made 
Of  how  her  glad  voice  chanted  with  the  birds 
And  her  little  hands  clamoured  and  begged, 
When  they  passed  the  white  flowered  still  pool, 
The  magic  ornament  of  the  valley  breast, 


70  THE  FIRE  BIRD 

Where  first  she  saw  the  flowers  of  dawn  growing. 
Thou  knowest  how  she  whimpered, 
How  she  reached  pleading  hungry  hands, 
How  she  fought  to  be  put  down  to  pick  them. 

On  his  pony,  Star-Face  left  her  with  the  Braves, 
While  he  made  the  welcome  sign  talk  to  the  visitors, 
While  he  spoke  the  brothers'  friendly  greeting, 
While  he  smoked  the  contented  peace  pipe 
That  warmed  the  hearts  of  our  visitors. 
Thou  knowest  how  she  turned  his  war  pony 
And  flew  back  over  the  trail,  wind  driven. 
Thou  knowest  how  the  frightened  hunters 
Rode  at  racing  speed  to  catch  her, 
And  how  they  saw  only  one  little  hand 
Not  yet  swallowed  by  the  sand  mouths 
The  living  sign  of  coming  mourning, 
Tightly  clutching  the  white  flower  of  destruction 
With  its  lying  heart  of  the  gold  of  happiness. 

And  thou  knowest  how  three  of  our  young  Braves 
Went  down  in  the  fierce  sand  mouths, 
Fighting  with  full  man  strength  to  save  her, 
Until  the  mighty  Chief,  her  grandfather,  cried: 
"It  is  enough.     The  Great  Spirit  has  spoken. 
He  has  taken  her  back  to  the  land  of  short  shadows. 
We  cannot  have  her.     I  have  said  it!" 


YIADA'S  FLIGHT  71 

Medicine  Man,  O  Medicine  Man, 

Is  there  no  magic  in  the  toluache  lily? 

Is  there  no  medicine  in  thy  heaped  storehouse, 

Fat  with  all  the  harvest  of  field  and  forest, 

That  will  quench  the  flaming  fire  bird, 

That  will  ease  its  coal  hot  scorching? 

Medicine  Man,  O  Medicine  Man, 

Is  there  no  magic  granted  by  the  Great  Spirit 

That  will  take  from  my  tortured  hands 

This  curse  of  snowy  sweetness? 

Call  Couy-oiiy  and  ask  if  she  has  finished. 

Tell  her  she  has  taken  my  all,  my  last  little  fading, 

Ask  her,  O  Medicine  Man,  ask  her  in  mercy 

To  send  you  High  Magic  from  the  Spirits, 

That  will  empty  my  hands  of  the  white  flower, 

That  will  ease  from  my  sickened  heart 

The  gnawing  flame  of  the  Fire  Bird. 


The  names  of  the  tribes  used  in  "The  Fire  Bird"  are  ficti- 
tious. The  country  described  begins  in  the  land  of  the  Salish 
tribes  of  Alaska,  runs  south  to  the  lowest  extent  of  British 
Columbia,  and  east  to  the  vicinity  north  of  North  Dakota. 
All  tribes  and  country  described  are  Alaskan  or  Canadian. 


THE    END 


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